


The First Informant

by clementineswings



Category: Original Work
Genre: Detective Noir, F/M, Film Noir, Gen, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clementineswings/pseuds/clementineswings
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The First Informant

The building was just any other rinky-dink building dotting the coast of El Luna. Its battered white paint were chipping from the coastal winds, and it seemed to lean more than it stood tall. If anyone else had happened upon this place in the dark end of town, they would have turned and left; however, Edward O'Shea was here on a mission. 

A week ago, he had gotten some information from a drunkard in county jail that this place had been the murder of a young socialite who turned up dead on the beach a few miles out of town. Her body had been stripped of clothing except for her stockings, and she had been beaten to hell. The officers who responded first had laid a towel over most of her body to save what dignity the girl had left. She'd been left with a small hole in her tanned skin, barely visible to the untrained eye. Chief Michael Donovan had called Edward the same morning. 

The phone rang at six am, the sun had barely started lighting the room, leaving it in a comfortable blanket of darkness. He awoke with a start, his legs jerking violently. He took a deep breath and let out a bellowing groan as he turned over towards the nightstand, his joints aching from disuse. He had only gotten back three hours ago, dead tired from his recent case. Eddie wasn't that old, he was nearing 41, but with the way his body ached, he had felt older. He rubbed at his eyes and rose to his elbow, grabbing the receiver from its stand. 

“Eddie?” The male voice asked.

He rose pushed himself up slowly, as he lowered his feet to the floor. “Depends on who's asking,” he said. There was nothing but a crackle on the other line, “So, who's askin’?” Eddie asked, irritation lacing his voice. There was a moment before the voice spoke again. 

“You've always been a smartass, but now isn’t the time to get smart, O’Shea” the other man hissed into the phone, “This is Chief Donovan.” A slight rustle of clothing came from the other end, and Eddie sighed. The old man was a no-nonsense kind of fella, and Eddie knew that. He had known Donovan for more than ten years and never once did he let him get away with his back talk. Eddie had grown up in Boston, and he had been running those streets for most of his life. The cockiness was how you survived, but as he got older, it faded into a sort of wit you develop over time. Eddie shifted on his bed, already pulling on the socks he had abandoned hours earlier.

“What's the deal waking me up this early? Some rich bastard bite it again, and the kids are scrambling to figure out who took him out before they can get their old man's dough?” He asked, picking at the threads of the socks. He had long since figured out that it Donovan didn't spit it out right away that he had to do some probing. Without missing a beat, the older man snorted indignantly. 

“You know well enough that that isn't the case. I don't ring you up before breakfast to give you anything like that.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, teetering on unsteady legs for a moment. His eyes darted around the room, looking for anything to focus on. “Anyway,” Donovan continued, “I called to ask your help. We found a girl on Valine Beach, Doctor says she's been dead four hours or so. Poor girl was laid out as naked as the day she was born.” Eddie pictured someone's daughter staring up at the good God with fear twisting her fine features. He had seen it a hundred times before, and each time it didn't get any easier. 

“What was her name?” He asked.

“Esther Jarrell. She was some kind of socialite, real popular in the prohibition scene. She was the heiress of some kind of automotive company.”

Eddie paused for a moment, thinking where he'd heard that name before. It sparked a memory buried so deep that the line went quiet. “Eddie? Damn this phone,” Donovan shouted, “Can you hear me?”

“Quit squawking for a second, will you? I'm thinking.” He said and as if remembering something that held all of the secrets of the world, he stiffened up straight. “Esther Jarrell, that was the gal who was involved one of those bank runs, wasn't it?”

He could almost hear the old man shrugging his shoulders. Esther Jarrell had been captured with a couple of other men, both low level thieves who had been caught up by her charm and good looks. It went off without a hitch until she sped off in their Ford and left them standing there with confused looks and hellfire burning in their souls. She had been arrested, but she hadn't served any time. 

Her father hired the best damned lawyers this side of San Francisco and she'd gotten off scot free. The other two men were serving time in Alcatraz, the last he heard the fella with the gun had ended his life off the top bunk with a sheet.

“So someone finally caught up with her, huh?” 

“Yeah, seems like it. Anyway, we need you to come take a look,” Donovan explained, “and hurry, won't you?”

Eddie set down the receiver, imagining how the Chief was cursing up a storm at the abrupt end of their call. As he pulled on his trousers, he wondered what the hell they wanted him to do about it. He hadn't been apart of the force for about a year now, his cover had been blown on a robbery case and he had to bail out, leaving a couple of fellas to take the fall, just like Jarrell had. Ironic, he thought. After that, he quit and started taking on his own cases. They had been mostly petty family murders and small time thieves. 

That night as he grew closer to the door, he heard the loud music that rattled the windows, an obnoxious female voice fell and rose in a familiar offkey melody. The golden hues from the windows seeped into the inky darkness of the late June night, painting the ground in a soft blanket of colour. He wiped at his brow as he stood at the banged up door, the suffocating heat of the day still lingered, clinging to the wool of his long coat. 

He had always worn the old beige, even in the dog days of summer. Eddie was anything but vain, but it hid the belly he had been growing. The gentle curve of it made him look more of an old geezer than he wanted, and so the coat stayed. Now that he was out of the slight comfort his car had offered, he wondered whether or not he should ditch the coat in his car. He was already up the steep steps by the time the thought crossed his mind. 

Eddie reached out and rapped at the door twice. The splintering wood bit at his knuckles as he pulled away quickly. The door opened a sliver, a young man's face appeared. The kid couldn't be older than 20, but with the way narrowed his eyes made him added ten years. His green eyes peered out, flicking up and down the man in front of him. “Waddaya want, mister?” he questioned. 

“I'm looking for Charlie.” Edward answered, shoving his hand in his pocket. The kid was silent for a moment before closed the door again. Eddie shifted on his feet, listening to the shouting from inside. The muffled voices seemed to be arguing and a door closed further within. There was more arguing, rising male voices, gruff and deep that seemed to be giving commands. The softer voice of the kid was low beneath them, almost overcome by the cacophony inside. There was a short slam of a door and the shuffling of feet. He raised his hand to knock again when the door snapped open. 

Before him stood the kid from before, and he looked like a mess. Eddie studied him for a moment. His green eyes were deep set into his face and his nutmeg hair was pointing up into all different directions, as if he had been shocked. The kid rolled his bony shoulders and his long body seemed to tense when Eddie lowered his hand slowly. “You coming in?” He asked, moving to the side. He stepped inside and was overcome with the smell of cigarette smoke, it clouded the whole room and the stale smell hung in the air. There were men that dotted the room, sat around small, round tables. They were hunched over, some dealing cards and some had stopped to stare at him. The music halted for a moment before continuing again once he placed his hat and coat to the side. An older man, nearly white headed and completely wrinkled appeared beside him, grabbing them and hightailing it into a room off to the side. 

The light from outside was much more harsh inside, almost blinding him. They were mostly focused on the rickety stage, highlighting the tanned woman on stage. Her crimson dress glistened under them. The woman moved side to side, almost as if she were a wisp of smoke. Her long black hair moved with her, falling over her shoulders. She must have been the one singing, he thought. Eddie halted for a moment, watching her sing. She needed more lessons, but damned if she didn't look beautiful. 

“No funny business,” the kid said suddenly, nearly making him jump out of skin, “and don't worry about your coat, Ol’ Larry will have them nice and safe once Charlie is finished with you.” The way he spoke sounded an omen, as if he were warning him he wasn't going to have a fun old time with Charlie.


End file.
